disclaimer: I don't own TW.

The old man –man? What do you call a head floating in a jar?-- was watching the dead city below. The same sight greeted him everyday, he could see nothing new, nothing worth to mention, but he –he? Maybe it?-- had had enough time to get used to it in the last two and a half decades.

Despite the monotonity of his days, he'd never regretted saving the city, not even when it became clear that he was trapped in the hospital, just like the rest of the population was trapped on the highway –desperately waiting for something that might never come, for someone who can finish the job the man –man?--started.

In the moments of loneliness, he liked to play out the different scenarios in his head –maybe saying mind would be more correct, considering that his head was his whole body--, imagine the man, woman, whatever that would save the city for once and all. Would he/she/it be young or old, a scientist on a mission, or an average man/other life form who got to to planet by accident?

Maybe, just maybe, it would be the Doctor, coming to see the oldest being of the universe one last time –a long forgotten, nameless part of him snickered quietly in the back of his mind, berating him for the ridiculous tale that was created centuries ago.

'The big secret, told on the third meeting,' the Voice chortled, 'he must've been desperate to learn something new if he believed that.'

The Face of Boe chuckled in unison with the Voice, agreeing with the statement.

'Desperate, indeed.' Just like me, the Face admitted inwardly, 'After all, I did create the tale, just to be able to meet someone ageless, whom I could call a friend, maybe a companion, for a long time.'

When he felt the new presence in the room, he paid no close attention, the newcomer could be only one person. Cat. The Novice's been coming to see him everyday, exactly in the same time for the last twenty-something years. She was his only companion nowadays, but the time they've spent together so far was still just a blip in time for him.

He struggled to look at her when he didn't hear he moving around. That was new –in the last decades he'd learned her every move, from the rhythm of her breathing to the bounce in her steps when it was sunny outside. A moment later he decided that the newcomer wasn't the elderly Novice Hame.

The newcomer wasn't even a female. It was young and male and human –well, presumably human. In these times one could never tell if the human they were truly human, or a half-breed or merely an android. He(?) was wearing dreadfully old-fashioned, the kind one could see in the museums.

Suddenly he felt the long-buried, half-forgotten being in the back of his mind perk up. He was used to the Voice, it was his only true companion, being with him since forever. So he wasn't surprised when he felt it's presence.

What surprised him –if it was really the name of the emotion he was feeling-- was that the Voice was hostile. That'd never happened before.

But as the figure in front of him came closer, the more angry the Voice became.

'No! You have no right! Not him! Change your shape!' It screamed.

The figure merely smiled and knelt down in front of Boe.

"Hello, sir," he greeted quietly, and for a moment the Face of Boe ignored the Presence, and let himself get lost in the voice of the stranger. It was horrifyingly beautiful and terrible, young, old and ageless, masculine and feminine at the same time. Like time itself.

The Presence continued to scream. 'Leave! Do what you want, but leave!'

"We can't do that, Jack," the newcomer continued, and The Face of Boe was surprised again when he realized that he was talking directly to the Voice.

"Do you know me?" asked Boe.

"Yes, we do. We know both of you. Jack and Boe. One, but really two."

"Who are you? I do not know you. Why are you here?"

"We are the Bad Wolf. And we came to bring you home."

The Voice refused to quiet down. You can't be! Rose is dead. And I killed Ianto!

The man, Ianto lifted a hand to touch the wall of the tank, but his hand passed through the glass. While he couldn't feel the touch of the ghost, the Face of Boe knew that the gesture was meant to be a caress.

"We are the Bad Wolf! All that was, all that is and all that ever could be. We are Rose, we are Ianto, we are everybody. And we came to bring you home. You can rest soon, our love."

'Why? Why now? Did you decide that I suffered enough? Have I finally paid for my sins?' the Voice asked bitterly, but it was no longer shouting.

"We've never meant to hurt you, Our Captain. We did not meant to punish you. But you were, are, will be the only one brave enough to carry out the task."

"To save New Earth?" asked the Face.

"And to deliver a message."

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Hours later, while he was lying among the remains of his broken tank, Jack Harkness saw the man again. He stopped in front of him and offered a hand to Jack. The Captain didn't know what to do; the man saw his confusion, bended down and grabbed him. Jack noted with a slight shock that he was in his human body again, but he didn't let go of the hand grasping his.

He looked back up into the familiar blue eyes and said.

"I still remember you. I kept my promise."

Ianto laughed, his voice no longer tainted with time. "I'm glad to hear that, sir," he answered and Jack couldn't help but laugh when he heard those welsh vowels.

"Is it really over?"

"Yes, it is. Let's go home, Jack."

Together they stepped toward the white light.